


World Without Colours

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Stydia, alternative universe, but they're not important, colorless world, there are cameos by the doctor and dean winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles lives his entire life without the ability to see colours, because it is gained by seeing your true love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Without Colours

“In a world without colours, only true love will give you the colours.”

This was something that his mother used to tell him every night. But to Stiles, it was unimaginable. He didn’t know what colours were, or what they might look like. To him, everything was the same – black and white. Some things were darker, some were lighter, but they were all still just in black in white. That was the world he knew, and that was the world he had gotten used to.

But as he grew older, he realized not everything might be so black and white – so sharp. He had always been wondering what those colours his mother was talking about looked like, and as a kid he used to ask people about them. His mother would always mention true love when talking about colours, but a seven year old boy didn’t know what true love was.

When he asked his father about the colours and true love, he said “It’s your mother, son,” and smiled at Stiles, then told him to go outside and play with his friends. Sometimes, people wouldn’t understand what he was trying to ask them. They didn’t understand what true love meant, just like him.

One day, he went outside and saw a man sitting on a bench and looking at the sky, having a distant look on his face. Stiles didn’t know what it meant, and being a curious kid he decided to have a conversation with the odd man. Stiles knew the man was odd because of his messy brown hair and a bowtie; no one wears bowties.

“Hello,” Stiles said, taking a seat on the bench, beside the odd man.

“Hello,” the man greets back, smiling widely at the young lad. Stiles noticed the British accent in the man’s voice; he hadn’t seen a British person in flesh until then.

“Sir, can I ask you a question?” the seven-year-old asked politely, looking at the man’s bowtie.

“Sure.”

“Why can some people see colours, while others can’t?” Stiles asked, still looking at the man, with a serious look on his face.

The odd man with a bowtie frowned, then looked up at the sky again, thinking about the answer. “Because colours come with love. Did you know that?”

Stiles nodded. “Yes, sir. I did know that. But why can some people see them, and some can’t?”

“Why do you want to know?” the man asked the little boy, looking back at him. “You’re just a child, you shouldn’t be bother with such philosophical questions.”

But Stiles shook his head; he was a persistent and stubborn child. “Sir, I want to know.”

The man then smiled at the young kid and stroke his hair with his hand. “People who see colours are lucky. That means they’ve found their true love. And that, my young friend, comes only once in a lifetime. And when you get the chance to change your entire vision of the world, grab it and don’t let it escape from you! Because you’ve got only one chance, you better don’t waste it.”

Stiles kept looking at the man who suddenly spaced out, and the look in his eyes became distant. The young boy in front of him started thinking about the man’s words, while trying to figure out what happened to the man.

The odd man with a bowtie all of a sudden stood up and left the boy without even a goodbye. Stiles was too lost in the man’s words to be offended, but he did feel slightly odd when the man left just like that. “Sir, have you found your true love?” he called out.

The man stopped for a second, but didn’t turn around. The wind was pulling the fallen leaves up around the man, and it looked almost as if he didn’t belong to this Stiles’, black and white world. His head lowered and to Stiles he looked like he was whispering something to himself. Stiles might had been just a little kid who was looking for answers, but he knew that this man wasn’t someone he gets to meet every day.

Weeks passed, the man had left with no trace, and Stiles was still being curious about true love and colours. He knew what true love meant; he read about it in books, in fairytales. But he didn’t know how could possibly those two be related, except none of them existed.

Two weeks before his eighth birthday, Stiles was walking through the center of the town, looking for someone to play with. His best friend Scott had been sick for a while, and he had no one else. There, leaned against the wall of a tall building, was a man. He had messy brown hair, much like the odd man Stiles had seen a while ago, but he seemed drunk – the odd man was definitely not drunk.

“Hey, kiddo!” the drunk man called out for Stiles, who turned around. “’Ave you gotta bottle?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, sir.”

The drunk man nodded and then patted the floor beside him. “Come sit with me for a while, doncha?”

The seven year old boy nodded and sat beside the man. He wasn’t thinking a lot, and Stiles didn’t know the meaning of word fear. “Why are you drinking?”

“To forget.”

“To forget what?”

The man looked at Stiles with a distant look in his eyes. “To forget who I am.”

There was a silence as the man drank almost everything out of his bottle, and the liquid that Stiles presumed was vodka was almost gone. “Sir, have you met true love?”

“What’s that?” the man asked the boy, looking at him in wonder. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles, well I’m Dean. I don’t know what’s your true love, or whatever that’s supposed to mean, but sure as hell I haven’t met whoever that person is. But sounds rare, coming once in a lifetime.”

Stiles politely nodded, wrapping his hands around his knees. “Can you see colours?”

“What’s that?” Dean asked again, looking at the now-empty bottle.

“Something that comes with true love,” Stiles replied, looking at the strange man. “My mother says it’s something beautiful.”

Dean laughed dryly and shook his head. “No, that’s not true, kid. There’s nothing beautiful on this world. So many murders, so many pain and so many people suffering…no beauty, kiddo. No beauty.”

Stiles felt strange about this man, and this one had been through a lot, just like the odd man he had met a while ago. They were all unusual for Beacon Hills, and they were both different than any other met Stiles had had the chance to meet. So he decided to get away from the man as soon as possible, saying goodbye to him.

“I wish you the best of luck with your true love, kiddo!”

Years later, Stiles forgot about the two strange men he’d had the chance to meet as such a young age. He didn’t know the men had taught him a life lesson, and he didn’t know who they were. Since they were all giving away some odd vibe, he decided not to mention them to anyone. But the fact the two completely opposite men said almost the same thing was confusing him more than he’d like to admit.

When he turned seventeen, he was really excited about everything. His parents had told him they had met at the age of seventeen, and Stiles hoped he would maybe get the chance to see those infamous colours purely by his own eyes. It was something he couldn’t even imagine, because nobody who had seen colours could describe them.

He would often lay awake at night, thinking about his true love. He wondered what she would look like, or what she would be like; he wondered when he’d finally get to meet her, and how; he wondered if she knew about colours, or didn’t have anyone who’d tell her about them. Stiles had his parents, but ever since he was a kid, all he wanted was to see them himself. His mother always said that the moment when she first saw them was as if her eyes had been opened, and his father said the colours made Stiles’ mother look tenfold more beautiful than before. 

It was the day of his eighteenth birthday when he was talking a walk in the park downtown, his head laying low and his hands in pockets of his jeans. His eyes were locked a few feet in front of him as he walked, oblivious to everything that was happening around him. He was lost in thought, thinking about most random things that would come to his mind. It was his eighteenth birthday, yet he couldn’t feel worse. 

He felt like he was missing something, and it was a feeling he couldn’t get rid of. 

For many years that were yet to come, Stiles claimed not to know what made him look to his left. But he looked to the left, and he had seen the most beautiful sight – a girl, whose long, wavy hair, wasn’t gray. It was something Stiles himself had seen never before, something that made him stop in place and take in a sharp breath, unable to take his eyes off the girl.

He didn’t know how to describe what he was looking at, not back then. But later, he found out that the colour of the girl’s hair was strawberry blonde – almost red – and her lips were dark red. Her top was brown, and her skirt blue. That was the very first time Stiles had seen colours. The girl stood out by absolutely everything, not just by not being black and white. She was more beautiful than Stiles could imagine a person to be.

Stiles looked around, expecting for people to be staring at the girl, too. When he realized no one paid attention to her, only then had it dawned on him: he was looking at his true love.

As she looked up and their eyes locked, Stiles could see her eyes widening and her mouth opening in wonder and shock. He knew she was seeing him in colours, too. And when he started approaching her, he realized that the closer he was, the world around him began to be in colour, too. The trees and the grass were the same colour, green; the sky was blue; people around him had hair and clothes various colours, and it all completely overwhelmed him. 

For eighteen years of his life, he had been waiting for this day to come.

He was only a few feet away from the girl, and he gave her a small smile. She smiled back, and Stiles could feel his heart beating faster and stronger than ever. All he wanted to do was to tell her how beautiful she was, how he had never seen a woman of such beauty. He wanted to ask her out, he wanted her to say yes, and he wanted them to be happy, just like his parents.

But all he could say was, “I’m Stiles.”

“Lydia,” the girl replied. 

In that moment, he remembered what the two odd man had told him; once you meet your true love, hold on to them.

And if Stiles was knew anything, it was that he was never going to let Lydia go.


End file.
